


Three Thirty Seven on a Tuesday

by i_amtheoutlaw



Series: On a Tuesday [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Stiles, Fingering, Knotting, M/M, Rimming, bottom!Derek, sterek, the works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amtheoutlaw/pseuds/i_amtheoutlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is finally found. So, now the question is: who’s going to kill Derek Hale?<br/>Derek seems to think the Sheriff will . . . Stiles knows better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part three! I decided to break this one up into chapters since I ended the last part the way I did and so many were anxious to know what happened! 
> 
>  
> 
> On a different note . . . I'd like to make known that this is the kinkiest part yet. Beware. I get a bit wild with the whole knot/werewolf/scent/cum deal. 
> 
> Now, I'm gonna put this link here again in case anyone missed it the first two times:
> 
> [if you plan on reading this whole series and actually care about canon chronology then you should really click here right now and read over this](http://i-amtheoutlaw.tumblr.com/post/100175173347/in-this-verse)

Derek bit into Stiles’ neck again and his teeth sank easily into the already made holes. From underneath Derek, Stiles moaned and pushed his ass back further with a tight squeeze around Derek’s knot. Derek growled into the bite and felt Stiles’ shiver along his chest. Derek felt the movement deep in his nerves. It tickled his teeth and played along his own senses until it reached the claws on his feet. He continued trying to press his hardness as far as it would go. Harder. Faster. These were the only words that flashed through Derek’s mind as he fucked into Stiles’ tightness, but he found the action so achingly annoying to accomplish with the lack of movement his knot provided him with.

This was the third time Derek had made Stiles like this. The third time he’d bit into Stiles’ neck while Stiles’ perfect, fucking perfect body took everything Derek had and swallowed it up.

Derek couldn’t see how pale Stiles’ skin was as Stiles wriggled and writhed underneath him, because at this point everything Derek saw was painted in shades of red, but Derek didn’t dare shut his eyes. Why should he have closed his eyes when he could still make out the moles that splattered along Stiles’ skin so very clearly? Well, Derek _had_ been able to see them. Before he’d reattached himself to the deepest angle in the long curve that connected Stiles’ shoulder and neck. Then Derek could only imagine the pattern in his mind’s eye. Still, Derek had to keep his eyes open. He felt like he had to watch. Everything. Even if the only thing he could see at the moment was the dirtied sheets under them. The cotton was bunched up and stained in way that seemed artful to Derek in his primal state; it was perfect proof of their combined pleasure, just the way their den should’ve been.

It was the third time and every one of Derek’s senses had still hastily stretched thin in pursuit of soaking up everything their moment together had to offer. The third time to feel the constant movement of their bodies as Derek wrapped himself around Stiles and kept the rest of the world out, to smell the whole room that lie still around them, and to taste layer upon layer of Stiles’ skin and the cold red blood as it soothed his heated snout.

Three damn times and Derek still couldn’t believe it was true.

Stiles’ stilled and clinched down so tight on the whole of Derek’s swollen cock, and as soon as Derek scented the fresh wave of Stiles’ cum, he thrust one last time and let himself cum deep inside Stiles’ ass.

But no. He wasn’t really _cuming_ , Derek reminded himself as he continued to empty. That was something else that Derek still couldn’t believe.

Where in the hell was all that cum even coming from?

Stiles’ was okay with that though, it seemed. The whole, well, grande sized load thing. The issue was that Stiles hadn’t had Derek’s cock out of him since they started this morning and, well . . . Derek wasn’t exactly sure what would happen when they finally did separate and he hadn’t had the guts to mention it to Stiles yet. Though, Derek knew Stiles probably had a million theories about it already.

He couldn’t really think too much about that though, at least momentarily, because at the time the pleasure of filing Stiles up, of mixing their scents, and tying them together was—as Stiles would say—so fucking awesome.

Derek fell on top of Stiles’ back again. He inwardly wished that they would somehow magically melt together so Stiles could feel everything Derek felt and he would never have to say the words out loud. Eventually, once most of the blinding pleasure faded, Stiles started to squirm. Derek quickly unlatched his teeth and flipped them over to their sides.

Yet, Derek was _still_ spilling into Stiles’ ass.

What.

The.

Literal.

Fuck.

Was _that_ about?

Derek ignored his own bodily functions and pulled at Stiles’ until the boy was flush against him from head to toe. Once he was satisfied, Derek started to lick at Stiles’ wounds.

Werewolf mating marks healed fast, Derek knew, but would normally leave a scar. Well . . . Derek knew that when two wolves mated that was what happened, because he’d caught glimpses of his aunts’ and uncles’ sometimes as a kid.

Derek’s mom, of course, didn’t have any because Derek’s father was human. He’d seen his dad’s scars a few times, but he’d always wondered how they healed. Always wondered if his dad just let—wanted—his mother to bite him repeatedly even though he couldn’t heal himself.

He never caught his dad’s marks bleeding or anything, but then again he didn’t see his father with his shirt off that much.

And that wasn’t exactly something Derek could’ve just asked his parents.

He wasn’t _Stiles_ after all.

Which yeah, Stiles. Stiles was amazing.

Stiles’ marks showed no signs of healing yet, but Derek would only have to lick at them for a few minutes before Stiles was pushing his head away, smiling, and acting like he didn’t feel a thing.

Not even the inch deep puncture wounds on his neck. Derek suddenly felt a pang of regret as he studied the wounds. He didn’t mean to bite Stiles the first time, and was relieved when Stiles didn’t seem to bleed much.

“It just keeps getting better and better, and—holy fuck! Dude, are you still cuming?! How are you not running out—”

Stiles was asking when Derek’s phone suddenly started to ring.

Derek reached behind himself and blindly felt for the phone on his nightstand. Once he found it and saw who it was, he frowned.

“It’s Scott.”

“Hmmm,” Stiles hummed lazily. “Wonder what he wants? Hope all the supernatural stays away for my b-day . . . what do people call not-presents?”

Derek ignored Stiles and clamped a hand over Stiles’ mouth as he answered the call.

“Hello?”

“ _Derek!_ ” Scott sounded scared, and Derek could hear a lot of people in the background.

“What’s wrong?”

“ _Have you seen Stiles_?”

“Um,” Derek said. “Why?”

“ _We can’t find him anywhere, dude, and we were supposed to hang out because we planned this whole surprise party and nobody can find him and we're all here and—_ ”

Derek heard the Sheriff say something in the background and immediately hung up.

“I’m dead,” Derek said as he let go of Stiles’ mouth and shook his head. “ _Dead_.”

“Why?” Stiles asked as he turned to look at Derek over his shoulder. “What did he want?”

For about three seconds Derek contemplated trying to keep the party a secret from Stiles, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Words were never his strong suit. Especially, explanations.

“They are throwing you a surprise party. Scott was supposed to hang out with you so they could decorate your house or whatever people do for surprise parties. They obviously can’t find you.”

“A surprise party?! Holy shit—wait,” Stiles paused and turned to look at Derek. “What? _You_ weren’t invited?”

Derek frowned. “Apparently not—oh my god, Stiles, somebody just came in the front door.”

“What!” Stiles whispered, then tried to sit up and winced when he got stuck on Derek’s knot.

“Did you lock the bedroom door?” Derek asked.

“Dude, I couldn’t risk waking you up too soon! You saw how fast I came! I didn’t even dare shut it all the way!”

“Fuck,” Derek hissed.

The footfalls barreled closer so that Stiles could hear them too. “Who is it?” he asked.

“I—fuck—Isaac, I think,” Derek said lowly and only had a second to think before he wrapped Stiles up and slid out of bed. His senses were a bit off because almost everything he smelled was overpowered by the scent of his cum in Stiles’ sweet body, but he was pretty sure it was Isaac barreling toward them. Unfortunately, Isaac was probably the only one in their pack who wouldn’t think twice about bursting into Derek’s bedroom and so Derek wanted to run, but he settled for power walking to the door instead, because Stiles hissed with every one of Derek’s steps despite his effort to keep Stiles in place. And Jesus? Why in the hell was Isaac running so fucking fast anyway? Derek had a moment of panic, where he realized that they should have just stayed under the covers and dealt with the embarrassment of being caught like _that_. Surely, it would have been better than _this_. He couldn’t have done anything but continue forward at this point though. 

They were so close. About the two more steps and Derek could have gotten the door locked in time.

“Derek!” Isaac yelled before he burst through the door, “wake up!”

Stiles shrieked and covered himself while Isaac yelped out, “what in the—oh my god!” Isaac slammed his lids closed and backed into the door frame in his haste to get out. “Ew, oh my god! My eyes!! Ew!”

Once they were both safely on other sides with the door closed between them, Derek sagged against the wall nearest and slid down it. He adjusted his hold on Stiles and licked over his bite-marks a few times.

The action had totally been for Derek’s gain, to help ground him, but Stiles mumbled his thanks to Derek and that made Derek feel even better.

Derek could tell that Isaac still stood on the other side of the door and wanted to be angry with the other beta, but Derek knew Isaac probably had a good reason for showing up. Namely, Stiles’ surprise party.

“Derek, can you—uh—come out here for a second?” asked Isaac, rather awkwardly. Even for Isaac, who Stiles would sometimes refer to as ickle-awkward-woooolfy, that was. Sometimes Derek wondered if Stiles even realized how much of an asshole he was, or if he even realized when he was talking out loud for that matter. Derek could admit to himself that he found it endearing. 

“No,” Derek replied flatly and Stiles let out a dry snort and threw a smile at him over his shoulder.

“Look, Isaac,” Stiles started, and Derek had never been so grateful for Stiles’ big mouth. “We have a situation.”

“Yeah . . . I—ah—I could see that. Not clear to what exactly it is, but yeah. Situation. Definitely.”

“I know about the party, so we can just cut the secretive crap. And, actually, since you’ve seen the whole package now, I’ll be straight up with you about that, too. I’ve got Derek’s knot in my ass—”

“Stiles,” Derek barked and put his hand over Stiles’ mouth a few words too late.

“What’s a—oh my god, ew— _what_?!” shrieked Isaac.

Stiles slapped at Derek’s hand until he removed it. Derek only let go because there was no way in hell that Derek was going to be the one to explain _any_ of this. “Yeah,” Stiles then said. “You’ll grow up and have one all of your own one day too, I’m sure, and hey! Don’t knock it until you try it. Seriously, dude.”

“I don’t know if he’ll ever get one, Stiles, he’s bitten,” Derek pointed out. He really had no clue how bitten wolves’ bits worked. Hell, Derek hadn’t a clue how his own bits worked until earlier this morning. Although, he figured that would have been the kind of extra-feature one had to be born with. However, Derek had seen much stranger transformations. If Derek’s bite turned Jackson into a kanima then why couldn’t his bite have given Isaac a little extra dick? Stiles, at least, would have called that logic.

“Right . . .” Stiles said then shook his head. “Not important anyway. What is important is figuring out how we’re gonna get untied and make it to this party, because no one has ever thrown me a surprise party, and it’s at my house! I can’t even get kicked out! I can kick people out! Ha! Isaac, if you tell anyone about this, I’m kicking you out.”

“I wasn’t invited,” said Derek, trying not to sound hurt.

“Um,” Isaac said. “Actually I was maybe supposed to tell you about it a week ago?”

“Of course you were,” Derek sighed.

“See, baby,” said Stiles, after he glared hard at the door for a moment, and Derek had to stop himself from preening under the use of the nickname. God, he hadn’t felt the need to smile this much in years. “Besides I wouldn’t have had fun at all if you weren’t there.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Seriously? I would have been devastated—”

“Guys,” Isaac cut their banter short. “It’s almost three now, so we’ve got thirty minutes before Scott comes looking for me—which by the way—he was supposed to tell you that I was on my way to come get you . . . did he not?”

Stiles snorted. “Oh, sourwolf, you bring the embarrassment upon yourself for being a sissy.”

“Oh yeah.” Derek winced a little. “I’m still going to die.”

“Right so . . .” Isaac drawled. Clearly he was only concerned with his own well-being. “Get dressed and I’ll meet you guys at the car.”

“Are you dense—” Stiles started but Derek cut him off.

“Go, Isaac. I’ll make sure we’re there in thirty minutes.”

“Fine,” Isaac agreed as he started to slowly back away. “But don’t be late, or Scott might honestly kill me. That is, if Lydia doesn’t get to him first. If so, then Lydia will kill me. I’m trying to stay optimistic. At least Scott will make it quick and painless.”

“Oh and Isaac,” Stiles called ignoring the nervous wolf’s ramblings. “You tell nobody a thing. I don’t know about any party, understand? Also I’d like to be the one who explains that I’ve just been mated for life.”

“I—what?” Isaac’s retreating footfalls ceased suddenly. “You’ve really just mated for life? To _Stiles_?”

“Yes,” answered Derek, easily, while Stiles squawked,

“Hey!”

Isaac sighed. “I wouldn’t even know where to start, besides I am not the one who has to man up and deal with Scott. That one’s all on you, Derek. Good luck.”

Derek snorted dryly. “Scott is the least of my worries right now.”

Stiles tensed immediately at his words and Isaac let out a loud bark of laughter.

“Sure,” Isaac drawled and started on his course toward the front door again. “You keep on thinking that.”

Derek listened until he’d heard the door slam firmly shut.

“Wait, so, who did you think was going to kill you if it wasn’t Scott?” Stiles asked and he sounded genuinely confused.

“Oh . . . I don’t know?” Derek glared at the back of Stiles’ head. “Your father, maybe? The Sheriff!”

This time Stiles laughed loudly. The movement had Stiles’ velvety insides shifting and clenching around Derek’s softening knot.

Derek felt himself harden the slightest bit . . .

And fuck. Derek hadn’t a clue how they were going to untie themselves in under thirty minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

“He just hung up on me!” declared Scott as he shoved the phone in his pocket and crossed arms over his chest. Scott was clearly sulking, and the Sheriff and Chris shared a look of amusement before the hunter awkwardly consoled the alpha with a pat on the shoulder. “I don’t even see why we’d invite Derek! He clearly doesn’t even care about Stiles at all!”

“He’s pack,” drawled Lydia simply, without looking up from the examination she was procuring on her fingernails. She had a lot of thoughts on the matter but wore a blank mask as she pondered them. She could admit that Danny’s explanation had the most appeal at the moment. What didn’t make sense though was how Lydia, or anyone else, hadn’t ever seen it before. She couldn’t even remember a time when Stiles and Derek had acted as friends, let alone something more. Maybe that was just it, though? Lydia wondered. Maybe they’d never known how to act strictly as friends or packmates would? Lydia thought over all this as Scott continued to stomp around. She quickly came to the startling realization that Stiles and Derek’s attraction could have ran further back than she’d first thought. That it quite possibly could have been brewing since Scott had first been bitten.

“Oh, is he?” Scott angrily asked the open air, because he surely knew better than to address Lydia like that. “Since when?! I’m pretty sure I’m the alpha! I should know these things, right?”

Scott’s red eyes gleamed challengingly for a minute. Lydia was so not impressed.

“Calm yourself, mutt,” she commanded. “Don’t go dissing Derek because you managed to lose your own best friend. It’s not Derek’s fault that Isaac forgot to invite him either.”

Scott sulked even harder and didn’t stop until Isaac returned.

The alpha was joyous at his beta’s return, though anyone with eyes could tell that Isaac was not pleased with whatever had happened at Derek’s place. He actually looked quite traumatized.

Danny sighed at the sight of Isaac. It was clear, to Danny at least, that he’d been right, but Danny was never one to gloat. That had always been Jackson’s job. 

Isaac ignored everyone and made his way over to an open spot on the couch next to Kira. He slid down into the cushions with a sigh. Not two seconds later, Scott was advancing on him.

“Well?” asked Scott, eyes wide with irritation and something darker. “Did you tell Derek? Did you find Stiles--”

Words ceased at the same time Scott halted all movement, but the alpha’s mouth still hung open even as words failed him. Isaac cringed as he looked up to the gaping face of his alpha who had paused a few feet from the beta. Of course, his nostrils were flared.

Isaac nodded, but didn’t say a word. He’d tried to change clothes and run through the woods. Though, Isaac knew Scott too well. Knew that his alpha would still smell . . . er, something on him. Scott had the best nose of the whole pack. Well, besides Derek, but he didn’t count. Isaac considered being born as a werewolf cheating.

Scott swallowed heavily. “You . . . smell . . .” he said, but trailed off. Isaac still knew what he’d smelt though and the beta cringed again.

“Look, let’s just not . . . until they get here,” Isaac pleaded.

Scott’s blank look fell away and instead his face took on an expression of pure determination. He stalked off and leaned heavily against the wall with a loud huff.

Isaac gulped, Lydia rolled her eyes, Danny silently gave Stiles the credit he deserved for pulling such a hottie, and, after they’d shared a look of pure parental exasperation, Chris dragged the Sheriff to the kitchen for a beer . . . or five.

Ten minutes passed in silence. The only noise came from the kitchen, where the Sheriff and Chris occasionally clanked their bottles together in toast to being parental figures to the most infuriating batch of teens there ever was.

Eventually, Lydia stood and paced the room. Nearly everyone found the click of her heels against the floor to be familiar and soothing. The tension eased until she checked her watch after another five minutes had passed, sighed, and then came to a rest in front of Isaac’s slouched form.

The beta looked up to the looming figure and pleaded, “look . . . give them some time. Derek promised they’d be here in thirty minutes! And they might be late! They were--uh--having some issues?”

Isaac held back a full-body shudder.

“Issues . . ?” questioned Lydia, with one of her perfectly sculpted brows arched.

Before Isaac could answer her, Scott pounced. The alpha was literally nothing more than blurred movement in his haste to get across the room and squeeze himself into the small space the couch provided in between Isaac and Kira.

Kira squeaked and Isaac leaned as far back into the arm of the couch as he could. “Were they fighting? Did Derek hurt him? Is that why I smell blood and . . . and . . . sweat and . . . and stuff? What did Derek do to him, Isaac!?” cried Scott at last.

“Er . . . there might have been a bit of blood,” lied Isaac, even as the unwanted image of Derek with what seemed like pints of Stiles’ blood, both fresh and dried, nearly coating Derek’s entire face, neck, and chest flashed to the forefront of his mind. “But--er--no fighting. I think.”

Isaac was busying gauging Scott’s reaction and failed to notice the anger that begun to surround Lydia.

“Isaac,” said Lydia, firmly. “Tell me . . . does Stiles know about the party?”

Isaac knew he couldn’t lie, but his silence was probably just as telling.

“Fuck,” he muttered and shut his eyes to the rest of the world. He hoped the two made their appearance soon. Isaac knew Lydia could only take being ignored for so long. Eventually, she was bound to snap.

Minute upon minute passed. Things got noisy and quiet and noisy again multiple times throughout, but Isaac ignored all of it. Using the skills Derek taught him when he’d first taken the bite, Isaac tuned everything out besides the beat of his alpha’s heart. The rhythm Scott kept was frantic but it somehow still calmed the beta just to hear it.

Seven minutes after the party was supposed to start, Isaac heard police sirens approach and the distinct sound of the Jeep’s engine rumble up the Stilinski drive.

And finally . . . Isaac was safe.

As Scott and Lydia started rushing to get everyone in a decent hiding place, Isaac shared a relieved look with Kira and let himself be pulled behind the couch. Just as he’d settled in the lights flipped off.


	3. Chapter 3

The bathroom proved useless. They tried every kind of lubricant they could find. Lotion, baby oil, the foot softening cream Cora left behind and nothing so far had worked. Derek was still stuck knot deep in Stiles’ ass. In fact, their efforts might have made the problem even worse. The foot cream had made Derek tingle in a strange way and had an even weirder effect on Stiles' insides. He felt cool and sparkly in places he really shouldn't have. Though, the kitchen proved to be an even worse idea. Stiles’ ass smelled really good with butter coating it, Derek learned. Like, ridiculously good.

Like, so good that Derek could barely remember why he wasn’t fucking it open at this very moment.

“Fuck, dude!” Stiles hissed as he slammed a pair of buttery palms on the countertop. “I swear, you just keep getting harder! Are you sure these things aren’t stuck in there for good? Because, yeah, that sounds ridiculous, I know, but maybe my amazing human physique wasn’t built . . .”

Stiles continued to babble, unaware that Derek was barely listening (the teen usually was). Derek already knew that male werewolves could mate with humans perfectly fine. He'd met a few couples in other packs a long time ago . . . though, he never did see two men? Surely it would be fine. Derek couldn't dwell too much on the subject. All his focus was set on keeping the blood and cum and whatever else he had inside him from filling up his cock again. Fucking butter was the worst idea ever, Derek decided.

“. . . We’re going to have to call Miss McCall—”

“What?” Derek snapped. He may have been zoned out, but he’d heard that loud and clear, and also felt himself soften quite a bit at the implication.

“She’ll know what to do!” Stiles argued. He'd known, of course, what would catch Derek's attention. If there was one thing Derek hated more than blonde women in leather, it was awkward situations. “She’s a nurse and just . . . dude, I really don’t want to miss this party. It’s not that I don’t want you inside me anymore, or that I want my best friend’s mom seeing us like this but—”

“No,” Derek said flatly.

“Come on, man. The woman is amazing and fixes everything she touches. It’s not a big deal—”

“We are not calling Scott’s mother!” Derek growled and grabbed at Stiles’ ass cheeks. He pulled them apart as wide as he could and slipped out with a loud pop.

Stiles hissed in pain and instantly squeezed his pert little ass all tight up and together.

“Fuuuuck,” Stiles groaned, both his hands had white-knuckled grip on the counter in front of him. “That—oh. What’s happening?”

Derek should’ve answered, because he knew what was happening, but all he could do was watch as his cum fought hard to trickle out of Stiles’ clenched bottom. Suddenly, Stiles relaxed and his legs were almost instantly covered in the cum that poured out of his ass.

“Fuck,” Derek sighed as he blankly stared down at his own semen that had started pool on the floor around their feet. It was a mess that Derek knew couldn’t have been good for the darkly stained hardwood floors yet he was clueless to what he actually should--could--have done about it. “We should have just avoided the damn kitchen,” decided Derek at last.

Stiles had the nerve to chuckle. “But dude,” he said. “I think the butter worked pretty nice—”

Derek growled.

“It was not the butter. Never the butter.”


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles felt . . . some type of way. That was for sure.

He didn't know whether to be embarrassed or turned on. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He was most definitely turned on but sort of felt like he shouldn't have been. After all that he and Derek had just done together though, it was sort of hard to be anything other than, well . . . _hard_ as he felt Derek's warm cum drip down his legs and splat against the floor. It wasn't like Stiles hadn't known it was in there. Wasn't like he hadn't thought about it nearly every time he moved. God, he'd known and he had.

Derek let out a whimper. The small noise made Derek sound wounded, but Stiles had learned that it actually meant Derek was ruined. The difference was critical.

Stiles peeked over his shoulder, still half expecting to find that Derek looked disgusted with him. Derek didn't at all and Stiles couldn't help but moan at how heated the look that Derek wore was. Since their first time, Derek handed Stiles more and more control with each go. This was a brilliant thing since Derek had a tendency to go mushy and starry eyed right before shifting into a mindset that left him utterly incapable of using any interpersonal communication skills he may have had. Stiles knew Derek would listen to him perfectly this time, opposed to how their first time went. Of course, Stiles saw no problem with how their first time went. It had been a little messy and rushed, sure, but Derek never hurt him. Not really.

Derek, however, seemed a bit ruffled from the whole ordeal. It'd been rather cute, Stiles thought. Then it seemed as though Derek had been able to reign in his wolf a bit, but in doing so he had to concentrate in a way that Stiles figured was unfair for sex. They finally came to a compromise during that last round. Derek could let the wolf out as much as he pleased as long as he obeyed Stiles’ every word.

God, it was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

“Stiles,” growled Derek, a pleading look in his bright eyes. “ _Shh_.”

Stiles took a deep breath and metaphorically braced himself. Then he pushed his legs further apart and shifted his hips to an obscene angle. He knew he still dripped and this position only made it worse, and he knew his ass was spread to Derek completely like this, too. 

Stiles bit back a hysterical giggle as the cold air tickled his exposed hole. He suddenly had a vision of himself standing there with Derek on his knees behind him. Stiles bucked his hips forward and belatedly realized that he was rock hard once more as his cock connected with the counter. Well, fuck.

Ignoring his buttery fingers, Stiles checked the time on Derek’s phone. It was nine minutes passed three. Stiles sighed.

Well, fuckity fuck alllll.

“Come’re,” Stiles murmured and as soon as the words left his mouth Derek was on him. All hot breath and skin and tongue. Licking at him and biting him, and pressing against him everywhere. Derek’s hardness rested near his ass but Stiles couldn’t be tempted by the smooth swollen cock. He would not.

“Knees,” Stiles whispered. “Now, please.”

Derek fell to them in no time, like he’d been dying for Stiles to give him the word. He grabbed and pulled and dove in without abandon, and Stiles could only react by spreading himself further and thrusting against the flat smoothness of Derek’s wet tongue. Derek licked long stripes across his hole before he moved and went for Stiles' balls. The scruff on his face felt deliciously good as it rubbed Stiles' slippery skin. Derek licked and sucked and nuzzled Stiles' sack until his toes curled in on themselves.

The wolf went back to taste Stiles’ entrance, but never pressed past the tight ring of muscle, he wouldn’t without the say so. Stiles was grateful for the behavior, he didn’t think he could handle having Derek's tongue inside him without ending up tied to Derek again.

“Stop,” commanded Stiles, his voice was shaky. Derek pulled away with a sharp whine. “Up,” Stiles then said and when the wolf rose, Stiles slipped behind him instead and used his own body to maneuver Derek closer to the counter.

Derek went easily, not having to be directed twice. Stiles watched as the long muscles in Derek’s back shifted and pulled when he fell pliant and spread himself.

Well, Stiles supposed that was a big fat _yes_ to all the questions he hadn't asked:

Yes, Derek would let _Stiles_ fuck him.

Yes, Stiles could _fuck_ Derek.

Yes, Derek _wanted_ Stiles to fuck him.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yesyesyesyesyes _yes_.

Stiles must have done something right in his past life to deserve this.

Scratch that, Stiles must have acted utterly divine in all his past lives to have earned himself one Derek Hale bent over a marble countertop and waiting for nothing else but him . . . and his cock.

Stiles managed not to impale himself in Derek’s ass, but, in an action spurred purely from arousal, bent down to swipe some of Derek’s cum off of the floor. He went to open Derek with his fingers but Derek stopped him just as the tips of his fingers ran along Derek’s entrance. Stiles was horrified for all of one second, thinking that Derek was disgusted by his choice of lube, which was really a shame considering how hard the thought of it had Stiles' cock. Though, then Derek grabbed him and he’d barely managed to coat himself with it before Derek pulled at his hips and he’d _slipped inside_.

And God above, Stiles was _in_ Derek Hale.

Derek had been taunt for all of five seconds and Stiles froze instantly as he remembered the pain he'd felt when Derek had first thrust into him. However, Derek melted around him in what seemed like no time at all. His hot, tight, and smooth inside relaxed completely and begged to be fucked . . .

By Stiles!

“Don’t really need,” Derek groaned belatedly. “No time.”

Well, Stiles didn't need to be told twice.

Fucking someone was definitely an experience. Fucking Derek was definitely an experience. A mind blowing, life changing thing and Stiles could get used to it.

Holy fucked all, Stiles groaned. It was so fucking tight. Stiles had never felt anything so tight before. He’d never been closer to anyone else than he was with Derek’s hot body pressing around him and sucking him in.

Stiles fell on top of the broad space of Derek’s back and started to move. He thrust and rolled and pumped his hips in and out of his mate without abandon, and Derek stayed open and warm to him the whole time. The wolf enthusiastically took everything Stiles had to give. Derek moaned and whimpered in pleasure, and when he started to thrust himself back into Stiles the tiniest bit, Stiles lost it. At some point his hands had found purchase on Derek’s hips and his grip tightened then, pulling the wolf back on to his cock as he continued fucking into that perfect hole. Stiles’ head, which had fallen forward, shifted around until his mouth found the V of Derek’s neck. Stiles nuzzled the spot for a minute before he bit down.

Derek cried out loudly, but Stiles couldn’t relent. His jaw locked down with a sweet and salty chunk of Derek’s neck caught in between. Suddenly, Derek squeezed . . . _something_ , and it felt as if his whole body was compressing itself onto Stiles’ throbbing cock. However, it was just Derek’s ass clenching around him as he came, Stiles would later realize. It was just the muscles that made up Derek’s smooth gripping hotness as they flexed and tightened unforgiving around Stiles’ swollen hardness. It was just _Derek_ . . .

Cuming while still filled up with Stiles’ cock.

Fuck.

Stiles came then, with a warrior cry and a bite hard enough to draw blood . . . even if it was only a drop.

Stiles came back to himself when the vice-like grip that Derek’s ass still had on his softening cock actually began to hurt. He slipped out and opened his eyes. It took him a moment but he soon realized Derek was still jerking himself off and was cuming all over the cabinets. Stiles snorted, added his own hand to the grip around Derek’s knot, and kissed softly along Derek’s neck as he milked the wolf of every last drop of cum.

When Derek was finally done, Stiles checked the time with his clean(est) hand. Derek’s phone read that it was eleven minutes past three. Stiles frowned, he was sure that they would have been super late after all this.

“Dude,” Stiles said seriously. “We need to work on my stamina. I only lasted two minutes . . .”

_And you’ve nearly been cuming for a whole minute now_ , Stiles added silently. 

From underneath him, Derek moaned pathetically and Stiles felt a little better.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er, so yeeah. I may have added a few parts that extended this tale's life a bit, however I do still plan on posting the last chapter by tonight! Just need to work on the ending a bit still. Hope you enjoy!

Jordan Parrish sat in his cruiser and munched on a doughnut. He knew it was cliche, but the Sheriff honestly had him on Tuesday traffic duty so he felt that he deserved to be a little cliche. The deputy wasn't complaining though, because compared to the recent messes the Sheriff had brought him in on, traffic duty seemed like a day off . . .

And it was totally boring.

Parrish sighed as he caught the time that glowed a dull green on his dash. _3:30_ read the glowing numbers. He still had a whole two hours to go. Whoopdeedoo.

A long minute passed as Parrish finished off his doughnut before a disturbance to the right caught his eye. A greyish blob hurtled toward him much faster than it should’ve been and when the vehicle reached Mrs. Fulsom's lime green bug, the driver sped up and crossed double yellow lines to pass her.

The deputy prepared himself to pull this driver over. Only, as the shape moved closer, he could tell it wasn't just any SUV. It was a silver-blue Jeep.

Normally, Parrish wouldn't have hesitated in pulling the Sheriff's son right over and giving him a hard time. Though, these days Parrish couldn't be sure if Stiles was off to save some lives . . . or take some for that matter. He paused for only a second as the Jeep flew by him and processed that the kid never once slowed down. Stiles was the type of person that saw everything, much like his father. Something was wrong, Parrish reckoned. If Stiles either missed the cruiser completely or disregarded it as irrelevant against the greater good something _had_ to be wrong.

Damn. Just when Parrish thought life had finally calmed down, too, but . . .

The deputy couldn’t ignore his intuition. Parrish had been getting lessons on Stiles' behavior (or as the boy himself called it, ‘his Stilesnesses’) for a very long time. Since before Parrish had joined the force, Sheriff Stilinski had used his son as part of . . . a _training_ program of sorts. Most of the trainees had bitched and moaned over being sent out as ‘glorified babysitters’ as the Sheriff put. Though, after only a few days, Parrish had been sure the Sheriff had his own nefarious purposes (like telling his son to get himself into the most awkward, strange, and confusing situations that he could just to see how his future deputies would handle it (most of the glorified babysitters didn’t make it past the ‘Stiles’ part of training, you see)). Either that, or the Sheriff hadn't known what exactly his son had been up too most of the time. 

Parrish had caught Stiles in some _beyond strange_ positions over the years, and things had steadily gotten worse . . .

Asleep in the tunnel slide with Scott McCall at the park down the road from the station, on the roof of the hospital with a bag of rocks, gauze, and peanut butter as the only things on his person, passed out under an overpass ten miles out from his house, in a broom closet with Derek Hale at the old gas station on State Road, in the forest burying three shoe boxes full of torn up bunny rabbit parts, in the forest at one in the morning up a tree with not only Derek Hale, but Cora and Peter Hale as well, in the forest chaining Scott McCall to a tree, in the forest with a _shirtless_ and bleeding Chris Argent, and in the forest, well. Yeah, Parrish sighed. He, too, had gotten the point eventually.

In retrospect, the steady downward progression made perfect sense.

The only thing Parrish still didn't understand was why Stiles and Derek had acted rude and awkward around each other afterward and pretty much always did. Well, more rude and awkward than either of them were prone to being toward others usually. On a regular basis Stiles could get rude enough to make anyone squirm and would go beyond-awkward just to prove a point. Parrish suspected that the kid just liked being an asshole. Derek either didn’t give a shit or couldn’t help how he came off. Parrish had had less time to study Derek, but he was determined to figure the other out. The deputy’s own paranoid tendencies aside though, pretty much everyone was aware of the little rivalry Derek and Stiles had always had between them. If that was even what one could call it. Seemed more like a power match, if anyone asked him. However, Parrish thought they were supposed to be like a pack . . . er, something like that. Even the Sheriff trusted Derek Hale these days and it showed, too. Parrish was perfectly fine with sharing the position of Sheriff’s favorite with the other man. He figured Derek needed some company that wasn't teenagers or Peter (even though Peter Hale was damn--oh, nevermind) . . . and Parrish was fine with letting Derek deal with all things supernatural as well. Perfectly fine.

Where was Derek when the deputy needed him now? wondered Parrish as he absently looked around. When he didn't catch any looming dark lumps of Hale in the distance, Parrish sighed once more, flipped on his lights, and took off after the Jeep. He figured if he was following Stiles into impending doom the teen wouldn't slow down. Parrish knew Stiles was an asshole like that, as stated before. At least impending doom was better than traffic duty, Parrish told himself. If Stiles happened to be guilty then he'd surely pull over and Parrish would be able to sleep later that night without worrying about being eaten alive in his own bed or, y’know . . . eating anyone else alive when he was _supposed_ to be in his bed. Stiles mentioned something like that happening in a rant once or twice. Maybe thrice, Parrish thought. Surely Stiles had mentioned it enough times for Parrish to be wary about it happening to him.

Parrish was thrown from his thoughts as Stiles slammed on the brakes and swerved to a stop. After nearly rear ending the Jeep in the process, the deputy did the same. Gulping, he approached the Jeep and tapped on the window.

Parrish was surprised to find Derek Hale in Stiles' passenger seat. Derek looked decidedly shifty today, but then so did Stiles really, the teen was all fidgety in a telling way. Either he’d been at the Rx bottle one too many times this morning or he was up to something . . . Parrish felt his eyes widen as he took in the trail of hickeys that ran down Stiles' throat. His eyes snapped back to Derek, the older man’s pinkened cheeks and death grip on the arm rest suddenly made perfect sense . . .

As did the awkwardness and rudeness. Up to _something_ , thought Parrish, indeed. As things belatedly fell into place for the deputy, he relaxed a bit. _This_ he could handle. Unlike the two loverboys, awkwardness really didn’t phase Parrish anymore. Especially when he had his badge and uniform on. It helped both others and Parrish himself to remember he was only doing his job.

"Er--Stiles?" asked Parrish, because sometimes Stiles and that contraption he called his mouth could come up with really good excuses that left all of those who were involved or witness to his escapades in a very ignorable grey area. Though Parrish held a strict _don’t ask don’t tell_ belief, he knew how old Derek was and, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t know what the Sheriff would have done if he’d been there, and that scared him a bit. Since he came to Beacon Hills, Parrish had sort of grounded himself in the Sheriff’s . . . well, everything the Sheriff had offered him. The Sheriff seemed to be the perfect person to mold himself to after he’d left the military. He’d drowned Parrish with structure and comfort and purpose, like he knew exactly how bad Parrish had needed it. It had been too easy to let the Sheriff guide him and, at some point, he’d realized that when he got panicked for no reason at all and his hand twitched toward his gun, he’d think to himself, _the Sheriff would never pull his gun on two teenage girls with eyebrow piercings who were trying to steal from Walmart_. However, in situations like these, Parrish found it easy to turn a blind eye when he didn’t have John’s voice in his head. It didn’t make the deputy a coward, it made him smart. If there was one thing he’d learned from the military (besides how best to blow people up) it was that when tensions ran high among your people it was always better to keep your nose in your own business and play by the rules best suited for your own survival.

"I'm eighteen!" Stiles blurted, which cleared Derek of any crimes, for the moment anyway. Stiles had been known for throwing incriminating accusations at Derek Hale in the past. Probably because he had the hots for Derek, Parrish thought and mentally snorted. If anyone was going to have strange ideas for courting practices it, of course, would have been Stiles Stilinski.

"My birthday is today," Stiles continued and Parrish blinked back the internal humor, because fuck, he’d forgotten. He’d even thought about it the day before, but after the dreams he’d had last night he’d woken up this morning muddled and muggy between his ears and then quickly remembered his alarm had been going off because he had traffic duty. Stiles was muttering when the guilty deputy tuned back in, "I, er, am running late to my surprise party because--"

"Stiles," Derek growled.

"Right . . ." Stiles said and nodded absently. Parrish noticed he was sweating and it wasn't all that hot outside. He also noticed that Derek had shut Stiles up with one firm word, something only the Sheriff, Scott, and Lydia could manage on a regular basis. It was both informative and impressive. "Point is, if I invite you to my party will you please wait to write me a ticket?"

Derek snorted.

Parrish smiled.

"Stiles,” said Parrish seriously. “If you can get me out of Tuesday traffic duty, I'll even give you the rest of my doughnuts."

"Well, I could use a police escort. I think I nearly gave Mrs. Fulsom a heart attack back there," said Stiles thoughtfully.

Parrish got back in his cruiser and led the way to the Stilinski home. He was in a great mood by the time they’d reached Stiles’ neighborhood and was absently smiling as he pulled to a stop on the side of the road right next to the Stilinski drive. He grabbed his box of doughnuts and caught up with the loverboys as they made their way to the door.

“Ready?” Stiles whispered to Derek and Derek cringed instantly. Though Stiles didn’t seem concerned. The teen merely rolled his eyes and pulled the other through the threshold with flourish. Then . . . well, then . . .

Parrish couldn’t really say what happened.

\--

Stiles couldn’t believe they were finally there and neither could Derek, but for two entirely different reasons. Stiles was bubbling with excitement, because even though they managed to make it there only seven minutes late, it felt like an eternity had passed since the beans about his party had first been spilled. He hadn’t let himself get fully excited about the party until they pulled into the drive and Derek’s nose twitched nervously, which had told Stiles there really was a gang--his very own gang--of people waiting to worship him inside. At first, he hadn’t wanted to get excited because he’d still been tied to Derek, and he loved his gang much too much to have scarred them by showing up like that. He’d figured it would have been better to miss altogether. After Stiles had been freed and had made sweet, sweet love to Derek’s perfect ass, he’d felt his excitement pick up, and had hurried to drag Derek toward the shower.

“Stiles,” Derek had growled at first, protesting. “Do you really think we have time to shower? I mean, it’s not like your dad will be able to smell anything on us and the wolves will be able to smell it either way.”

Secretly, Derek had hoped Stiles hadn’t been trying to wipe the evidence away. Derek needed the other wolves to smell it . . . and it couldn’t have been washed away anyhow.

“Trust me, babes,” Stiles had replied, and seemed ignorant of Derek’s inner-wolf turmoil. “If we don’t clean you up a bit you’ll have both Scott _and_ my dad after you.”

Derek had seemed very unconvinced until he’d caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror and had yelped. He’d understood what Stiles had been getting at then.

“Okay,” he had readily agreed, staring at the blood-covered reflection of himself. “Lets shower.”

Stiles excitement over the party had dwindled then once more, because he’d had a very naked and wet and soapy Derek Hale to be excited about instead. Stiles had even noticed that Derek’s knot had yet to deflate. The thick member was still reddened and swollen, and hung heavy between his legs. That, of course, had been when the soap incident occurred.

Derek had cleaned them both up and had used his tongue to clean Stiles’ wounds before he’d decided to clean them with soap, just to be safe. Stiles had sort of flipped out and flailed around like a crazy person because the suds had burnt him so badly. However, this meant that their shower had been effectively cut short before either of them had had a chance to get hard again (metaphorically speaking in Derek’s case) which could have honestly been taken as a blessing in disguise considering it had been three-fifteen when they’d gotten out and dried off.

Stiles had gotten the towel bloody and so they had to take a few extra minutes to patch up his neck so his shirt wouldn’t get stained. Then Derek had a slight problem concealing his glorious package inside his tight jeans.

After that, Stiles hadn’t had time to get excited. What with focusing on getting there, not wrecking his baby, and Parrish, Stiles had had a full plate.

Derek, on the other hand, couldn’t believe he was about to walk in there holding Stiles’ hand and still thought he was likely to die by a wolfsbane bullet. After all, one didn’t just bang the Sheriff’s barely-legal only child and come away unscathed, did they? It didn’t seem likely.

Before Derek knew it though, Stiles pulled him into the dark house.

Stiles was expecting a surprise, an explosion of confetti, a birthday cake slammed in his face, but of course, things went south rather quickly as they generally tended to.

“SUR--” was all the group got in before there was a loud growl and Stiles saw red eyes heading straight for them.


	6. Chapter 6

Melissa McCall had had a very long day. She’d worked the early shift at the hospital and would have been walking through her front door and heading straight toward her bedroom to pass out for a good couple of hours if it’d been a normal day. However, she would have never ever in a thousand years missed Stiles Stilinski’s birthday party. Sure, she’d most likely missed the surprise part of it and quite possibly still smelled like sick people, but she loved Stiles’ like he was her own and not even an alpha pack could stop her from showing up, dirty scrubs or not.

So, one would have been completely right in saying Melissa was surprised herself to see that the front door of John’s home stood wide open and led to what seemed to be a completely pitch-black house. Instantly, Melissa’s mother-of-the-true-alpha instincts kicked in and had her heart beating fast. However, she knew panicking was never a good option and quickly calmed herself and exited the car, but not before she reached under her seat and attached the holstered gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets to the back of her scrubs. It was a registered piece after all, she was allowed to shoot people--or creature alike--with it.

As she approached the house some alarming noises stirred her attention. It sounded like a dog fight, which, when one had a werewolf as a son, one learned such noises were normally cause for commotion. The only thing that kept her from pulling her gun and aiming at the dark threshold before she came any closer was the fact that Lydia and Stiles’ shouts could be heard over the growling and they sounded more angry than hurt. However, she nearly stepped on a jelly-filled as she reached the doorway, because someone had dropped a box of doughnuts and hadn’t bothered to pick them up . . .

And, if a box of jelly-filleds spilled out unconcernedly in front of a policeman’s house wasn’t cause for alarm than Melissa wasn’t sure what was.

She gulped and stepped in to the dark house. It seemed as if all the noises instantly grew louder at once. The light from outside illuminated several figures, but she couldn’t tell who was who . . . or who was _what_ , but there were definitely enough glowing eyes scattered around the darkness for her to conclude there were some ‘whats’ thrown into the mess. Somewhere, Stiles was shouting a combination of profanities that made Melissa want to wash out his mouth with soap. Lydia was threatening ‘mutt and human alike’ in a loud but collected, demanding tone that told Melissa the younger female would make an amazing mother someday. Under their shouting, a few tiny squeaks, some loud sighs, a steady supply of confused whimpers, and a light chuckle here or there could be heard.

These noises, Melissa supposed, came from Kira, John, Isaac, and Chris in that order.

Melissa felt along the wall in the entryway for the light switch she knew was there. Her fingers felt smooth plastic and she flipped the switch up.

Somehow after all that she still wasn't expecting the sight that greeted her.

\--

“Scott McCall!” rang a tone that was both enraged, disappointed and very, very familiar to both Scott and Stiles almost as soon as the lights switched on. All eyes snapped toward the entryway where a crazy eyed Miss McCall stood akimbo. She was still clad in her work stained scrubs and her curly hair was frizzy from the long day and she even had a bit of medical tape stuck in it, but none of these things lessened the strength of her glare.

Lydia was impressed as she usually was by Melissa McCall and started to examine her fingernails, content on letting the older woman handle things now . . .

There was quite a lot to be handled, you see, and Lydia could admit that she’d needed some help.

Something _had_ to be done about the Sheriff who was tipsy after his time spent in the kitchen with Chris and kept sighing exasperatedly instead of _doing something_ constructive. Then there was Chris himself, who had held his liquor quite well, Lydia suspected, but wouldn’t stop snickering because he couldn’t help being a grade A asshole where werewolves were involved. Lydia could probably have handled Kira with ease, considering it was most likely that the girl was just turned on if the sounds she had been making were anything to go by. Though, lord knows, the poor girl would be horrified with herself for that. Even though it was a completely normal reaction to two angry, fit males rolling around on top of each other and grunting, in Lydia’s opinion, that was. Isaac was also an easy fix, because Lydia knew his stress-filled whimpers would subside as soon as his alpha had calmed . . . and really, that right there was the root of the problem. Lydia couldn’t even start cleaning up the mess that had been made in the darkness until _such things_ were handled.

But if anyone could handle breaking up a fight between a territorial-threatened Hale and a completely wolfed-out alpha werewolf (matted black fur, wet snout, and four legs and all) then it was either Stiles, the Sheriff, Chris, Lydia herself, or Miss McCall . . .

And considering Stiles had tried yelling, cursing, and had even smashed both a lamp and a wooden chair over the fighting forms with little to no effect, and the Sheriff had only sighed while Chris _still_ snickered, and Lydia hadn’t been willing to step within a few feet of the brawl in fear of ruining her Marc Jacobs sun-dress with blood, guts, or claws . . .

It was up to Melissa. Who was already doing a fine job of it, if Lydia said so herself.

Melissa stalked forward without hesitation, took one last look at the mess of tangled wolves on the floor, and sighed before she snatched her son up by his elongated, furry ear.

“You will stop this nonsense right now, young man,” Miss McCall spat as she yanked her son’s four legged form off of Derek’s tense one. The alpha instantly went with her and let out a submissive whimper but kept Derek pinned under his glowing red eyes. “You’ve got exactly _five seconds_ to shift back to yourself and explain before I drag you to the car like this and leave you child-locked in while the _rest of us_ enjoy the party _without you_. Do I _make_ myself clear?”

The room had fallen silent throughout her declaration, except for a few people who were still breathing hard, and they all eyed Scott warily as they waited for a reaction. After a beat, none was forthcoming and Melissa sighed loudly.

“ _One_ . . .” hissed Melissa, and Scott’s eyes instantly snapped to hers, but just as quickly as they came they were back on Derek. “Two . . .” Melissa continued, unfazed. This time Scott’s eyes shot to Stiles briefly before returning to Derek’s crouched form. “Three . . .” spoke Melissa, still calm. However, she added, “if I get to five I swear to God, Scott, I will--”

She cut herself off and grinned as bones and fur started to shift.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles had never in his life been so friggin’ happy to hear Scott’s mom yelling.

Normally, when the woman raised her voice to that particular level it was cause for the worst kind of alarm; the kind of alarm that not even demon-wolves and/or fox-demons called for. However, he’d welcomed the sound with open arms this time.

Stiles had tried _everything_ his fast-working brain could think of and he _still_ couldn’t stop Scott from attacking Derek, or, for that matter, Derek from attacking Scott right back (Stiles hadn’t decided who he was more mad at yet, but it would probably be Scott since Derek had a perfect ass that he let Stiles fuck). Stiles’ first instinct had been to jump in the way and protect Derek, though that plan failed spectacularly when he was pushed away by both his best friend and his boyfriend only seconds before the two of them had collided. After that Stiles hadn’t dared try to squeeze himself in between the snarling ball of claws and fur the two of them made. It hadn’t helped that Stiles only had mere human sight at his disposal and could barely see shit besides glowing eyes. Or that the only other wolf who had been in the vicinity had shrunk back and whimpered like a stupid, golden-locked cry baby. Or that the one person with the only real experience at preventing things like this had been _laughing_ about it and _still was_ , actually.

From his spot on the couch, Stiles glared at Argent.

Unfortunately, it had been Stiles’ own fast-working brain that hadn’t provided Stiles with the bright idea to flip a light on. No. At the time it had seemed like a much better idea to just rip the lamp out of the socket and chuck it at the idiots.

Same went for the chair that was now splintered into about fifty pieces.

Even after Scott had gotten a bit less _Fluffy_ and bit more Scott-like (now only the normal two legged kind of wolfed out), Melissa had held fast to his somewhat more fleshy ear and steered him in the direction of John’s recliner, and sat him in it without giving him another choice. Then she had smiled a winning smile, strode casually around to the back of the LA-Z boy, and placed two hands firmly on each of her son’s tense shoulders so she could address the party without straining her neck _and_ keep her son in place lest he try anything again.

Lydia had mentally taken note of the action for later use and Stiles had silently thanked God that Melissa, small as she was, still scared the shit out of Scott, even enough to keep him in place when he was wolfed out.

Small blessings were important things in this life, Stiles had long since learned that. Like, okay, his best friend just got bit by a werewolf _but_ he’d also met the hottest werewolf alive out of it. Like, sure, Derek was dying on the floor _but_ he had his shirt off. Like, hmm, Derek might have been mocking Stiles _but_ he wore a shirt with thumb holes while doing it.

Actual thumb holes. Yes, Stiles had thought. Blessings from the Gods.

Of course, with her charming smile still in place, Miss McCall had then requested that _everyone_ relax, take a seat, and join her _right this very instant_ and start spilling as to _what in the Lord’s hell had been going on!_

That was how Stiles found himself seated on the couch in-between Derek and Isaac. Though, in-between wasn’t really the word for it considering that as soon as he’d sat Derek had taken it upon himself to drape Stiles’ body in his own heavy, tense, and still-bulging-from-the-fight limbs and had pretty much pulled Stiles into his lap. Everyone else, besides Stiles’ dad and Chris who stood and watched over the group, had sat accordingly and they’d ended up forming a lopsided pack-circle-thing in Stiles’ living room.

Kira sat on the arm of the couch and looked uncharacteristically ruffled and wide-eyed. Isaac sat on the couch closest to her and he still seemed skittish from the fight (later Stiles might feel bad that the beta had to deal with his former alpha and current alpha fighting over him, but just then he was much too angry). The amazing-two-bodied-wolf-boy that Stiles and Derek had apparently turned into were next on the couch. Then came Scott and Melissa in the recliner. The mother still stood behind it and looked soothing and happy, but son decidedly did not. Lydia had pulled up a chair on the other side of the recliner and looked like she was trying to not be interested. Danny had claimed Stiles’ favorite chair that couldn’t recline but was over-stuffed and comfy, and he kept throwing thumbs-up in Stiles’ direction. After Deputy Parrish had accepted a beer from the Sheriff, he had taken a seat on the arm of Danny’s chair; he still looked glad to be through with traffic duty.

When Chris had gone to the kitchen to grab Melissa a beer, he came back to find them like this. He’d made a joke to the Sheriff about supernatural support groups and Stiles’ dad had laughed loudly at it and seemed not to have a care in the world. Not even a care that his only son had just lost it and yes, there _was_ a reason the Sheriff didn't drink much. Stiles had glared at the hunter, but had quickly turned his narrowed eyes on Derek instead and stated, “told you so.”

“He totally did,” Isaac had added softly, _helping_ the situation for once in his sad, cowardly life.

Derek hadn’t even reacted to either of them, just kept his glowing eyes locked on Scott, who glared right back at him. Stiles was starting to think that they had some strange alpha-beta communication going on that he was untuned to because Derek didn’t even blink when Melissa raised a questioning eyebrow in Stiles’ direction and gestured for him to please explain and . . .

As Stiles looked around at the faces of his pack, he found himself at a loss for words for maybe once in his life. Everyone looked at him, and he was suddenly grateful for the cocoon of Derek’s strong arms. Danny and Parrish both looked knowing in similar ways (like they knew exactly how great the sex Stiles just had had been), Lydia had lost the pretense of not-caring and now looked much too interested (like Stiles and Derek were an algebraic equation she couldn’t quite figure out), Isaac looked a bit green (like he’d just seen Stiles butt-ass naked and stuck on Derek’s cock, which he had), and Kira pointedly not-looked (like she felt rather awkward about the images flashing through her mind but couldn’t stop them). Scott . . . well, Scott, of course, looked absolutely lethal (because he was).

“Er,” said Stiles, and Melissa’s other eyebrow rose to meet her already raised one.

“Surely if anyone can explain this mess,” started Miss McCall, her tone sounded calm and caring but she pointedly let her gaze fall to the tight bracket of arms trapping Stiles in before she continued. “Then it’s you, Stiles.”

“Right.” Stiles gulped. “Well . . .”

_Here goes nothing_ , thought Stiles and started on his tale of how he fell for a giant lump of grumpy-pantsed werewolf and how it seemed that said wolf had fallen for him right back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm late and I'm still missing the last chapter but don't blame me! It was all Dean Winchester's fault, I swear!!!!!
> 
> Okeey, it was a little my fault. I had some trouble (er, if you call adding nearly 2000 words to the count trouble) with this last bit! 
> 
> I'll either post the last chapter tonight, or on Saturday because I can't tomorrow . . . enjoy until then, my babesss!

Parrish was confused, but this didn’t mean he wasn’t content.

He'd been confused since he’d stepped up to the doorway at the Stilinski’s home and saw two glowing red dots and a blurry shadow hurtling straight toward their group of three. The blur moved so fast that he'd only a second to worry if it was after him before the form became clearer and Scott McCall had lept on Derek Hale and knocked the larger man to the ground. Parrish had realized belatedly that his hand had already rested on his gun.

_Jesus_ , the deputy had thought. He really was way too paranoid and way too post-stress-traumatized to be hanging around a pack of friendly werewolves.

However, then Parrish had heard a series of sighs that had been most exasperated and very familiar, and he’d relaxed instantly. He knew those sighs like the back of his hand and, apparently, it seemed that the Sheriff hadn’t felt the need to be frightened or angry about the two wolves who had tried to tear each other to pieces in his home. So, Parrish had sought out the two largest forms in the darkness and nudged the Sheriff with his shoulder to alert the older man of his presence, lest he decided to stop sighing and require back up instead.

It hadn’t been until Melissa McCall had flipped the lights on and broke up the fight that Parrish remembered that he’d been _skipping traffic duty_ and remembered that he’d been counting on Stiles’ to justify his being there to the Sheriff.

Well, it seemed that Stiles had much bigger things to worry about . . .

Luckily, the Sheriff had merely smiled and handed him a beer. So, Parrish felt comfortable enough to sit himself on the arm of a chair and join in with the McCall, er, _pack_. Though, he was still confused. Much like Derek had been, Parrish worried solely on the Sheriff’s reactions. He’d assumed all Stiles’ friends would be happy for the loverboys, but alas. Both he and Derek had been mistaken it seemed.

The deputy couldn’t understand _why_ Scott had been so angry when even Stiles’ own father hadn’t been. Parrish suspected it had something to do with the whole werewolf aspect of their lives, which he could admit he knew nothing about. Though, Melissa had requested that Stiles explain and the deputy had eagerly turned his ears on and waited for Stiles’ to open his mouth so he could start picking through the jumble of words that were surely to fall out.

After opening and closing his mouth a few times in a completely uncharacteristic and fishy manner, Stiles finally complied.

“Right.” Stiles gulped. “Well . . .”

Everyone stayed quiet and listened intently as Stiles told his tale, and, to everyone’s surprise, he started with night he and Scott went to look for the dead body in the woods. Though, he breezed through that and his first encounter with Derek Hale in no time, and told them how he’d been quite startled to realize that he was gay for creepy, leather wearing men who could have squashed him one handed and seemingly _lived_ in the forest where his best friend had just contracted a nasty case of lycanthropy. It had been quite startling indeed, Stiles assured them.

The pack even managed to stay quiet as he continued on, and told them how his next few encounters with Derek had gone. Stiles told how he and Scott had gotten Derek arrested, but how Stiles had almost instantly regretted it when he met Derek’s gaze in the back of the cruiser and realized that the most expressive, colorful eyes he’d ever seen glared back at him.

No murderer could’ve been that beautiful, Stiles had reasoned. At least not in real life.

"Lips," growled Derek, cutting in to the story but still not taking his eyes off of Scott.

"I knew it!" Stiles burst, and then explained to everyone how he'd thought that Derek had stared at his lips then but had told himself that it’d only been his imagination. That must have been when Detek noticed that he liked them for the first time, Stiles reasoned and, even though it seemed that Derek was incapable of proper communication at the moment, Stiles went on to explain this revelation for him.

Stiles even admitted to being a bit lost and confused in his attraction, because this was his pack he was talking to after all. They all knew him anyway and still kept their mouths’ shut even as he explained his way through the arm-chop-off incident and all of the really, really freaky and awkward boners it’d entailed. He started by telling them how Derek showed up leather-clad and dying in front of the Jeep, and how for Stiles that had been like a sign from some sort of God. Stiles explained how he remembered glancing up and wondering, _holy crap holy crap is this hot son of a bitch everywhere!?_ Then he told how he had hoped Derek would stain his seats so he could remember that _Derek Hale_ had been in his car every time he looked over, and how he’d kept arguing with Derek because he had started to find the growling very attractive. He told them how at the time he'd never pictured anything hotter than the image of Derek's teeth on his neck, which had been quite startling considering Derek had been talking about ripping his throat out, but Stiles couldn't have helped it. He was just naturally kinky, you see.

"Wasn't," Derek cut in and Stiles smiled and pointedly ignored commenting on what Derek was talking about, though most everyone understood anyway that Derek hadn’t been thinking about ripping an underage Stiles’ throat out but instead had been thinking of something much less violent and still very much illegal.

Stiles went on to tell them how he’d mostly not wanted to chop someone’s arm off, but also hadn’t known if he would have been able to make himself chop off the most glorious arm he’d seen since he'd been five years old and watched teenage Hercules sing a tune and come out the other side of it looking every bit a Greek God. Though, at the time he’d decided even an armless Derek Hale would’ve been more glorious than most, and he told everyone as much. Besides, he would never have let Derek die on his watch, even though he’d tried to make it seem as if he hadn’t cared.

He also told them how that night he’d thought that his attraction had reached its highest point after seeing Derek all shirtless and flexed and flushed and writhing on the floor. However, he also told them how very wrong he had been and how he still wasn’t sure if his attraction for Derek had reached its highest point . . . or if it ever would, for that matter.

"But I was still confused!" Stiles added quickly as he remembered his original point. "And some people," Stiles paused and threw a glare at both Scott and Danny, "don't know how to answer a simple question!"

Scott ignored him in favor of not-stopping his Derek-glaring, but Danny at least looked sheepish and quietly mumbled something about teasing.

Stiles said that shortly after that had been when Scott was determining whether or not to trust Derek. Stiles explained how he had sort of already decided to trust Derek without meaning to and then tried really, really hard not to because he’d figured trusting with one’s penis had never led to anything good.

“Oh, but I was so, so wrong,” Stiles added, a dreamy look in his eyes.

With the audiences’ silence, and Stiles’ fascinating ability to talk and talk and talk they were soon to the bit where Derek had seemingly died and Stiles had once again blamed him for murder. He had blamed Derek because, Stiles explained, he was still _Stiles_ after all, even if he’d had a big, gay crush. This made sense to everyone because everyone knew that Stiles was an asshole at the best of times and a down right bastard at the worst.

Then, all too soon, Stiles felt Derek tense underneath him as he reached the part about Derek living with Stiles as he was ‘on the run.’

“Wait,” the Sheriff said, pausing Stiles mid-sentence. “Derek stayed here that whole time!?”

“Er,” said Stiles, it seemed his mouth wasn’t at its finest tonight. “Yeah? Um. Pretty much.”

There was an awkward pause and then his dad laughed and, after sharing a startled look with Parrish, Stiles continued on, still carefully pointing out that _nothing had ever happened_ so when the Sheriff was more sober he could still rest easy.

Because, yeah, Stiles knew his dad wouldn’t be mad about their completely legal relationship, but the Sheriff was always mad when his own son broke the law (especially in his own house). Well, unless he was drunk and happy, it seemed. Stiles hadn’t ever really seen his dad drunk and happy at the same time, but seeing it then was nice.

However, Stiles told them how if he hadn’t been sure he was gay before that, having Derek stay with him had definitely turned him.

“You see, really, it was all Danny’s fault!” Stiles screeched when he came to the part in his story about first-addition-Miguel.

“My fault!?” Danny squawked in outrage and accidentally elbowed Parrish who was sat on the armrest of his chair. He blushed in a way that seemed more confident and planned than embarrassed and blotchy, and Stiles found it annoying. Stiles’ own face could have never accomplished such grace.

“Was too,” Stiles argued. “I was a bit jealous when Danny was ogling _my man_ and then I realized that I wanted Derek Hale to be my man! And not just _all_ dark, broody, leathery creeper types!”

Danny merely snickered into his sleeve as Stiles continued to glare at him from the tight confine of Derek’s large arms. Derek and Scott weren’t the only ones feeling territorially today, it seemed.

"In my defense," Danny started. "You had been attempting to bribe me at the time and you said he was your cousin, which yeah, just no. And I know for a fact you did more ogling than I did anyway."

"Wait," Isaac suddenly cut in. "You thought Stiles had a crush in his own cousin?! You thought that-that-that--"

Danny raised an amused eyebrow and Isaac blushed.

"I just mean, you said--that--er--"

Taking pity on the beta, Danny explained, "honestly, when I walked into Stiles’ room and saw--er-- _Derek_ there, well . . . there was a lot of scenarios running through my head at the time but none of them featured those two as cousins," Danny paused and looked thoughtful. "Nor did I ever consider that Miguel was actually a fugitive werewolf though, so . . ."

Stiles snorted and continued on.

He told them all about that night, how it had been the night he’d missed playing first line. He’d been with Derek and instead of accomplishing a long-time goal of his own, Stiles had spent the evening getting attacked by Derek’s crazy ass uncle. Though, he supposed that had been a first of sorts as well.

Derek squeezed him tighter and growled, “worst. Sorry.”

“I know, babes, I know,” Stiles comforted. “I’m glad I was there, though, you know that.”

Stiles skimmed over some other things and touched upon his brief jealousy that had occurred when Derek had first bitten Isaac . . . and then Erica and Boyd, too. He explained how it had nothing to do with being a werewolf. After all, Stiles said, he could have had Peter turn him anytime he’d asked for it over the years (Scott and Derek both growled at this and then both narrowed their eyes at each other causing Stiles to snort). It had been more of a thing, Stiles explained, where he hadn’t wanted Derek’s mouth to touch anybody else anywhere . . . _ever_. Or something like that. Though, he made sure to mention (with a smug look in Isaac the cowardly wolf’s direction) how Derek had gone all macho and growl-y and roar-y, and had put an ickle-freshly-turned blond wolf in his place when he’d tried to eat Stiles’ heart out.

In the hottest, most heroic fashion there ever was, Stiles didn’t forget to add.

“Then there was--ah--the pool incident,” Stiles declared with a flappy gesture. “That’s when shit got real . . . at least for me.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed without further explanation.

Stiles explained what happened that night in the pool area, how Erica tried to get info out of him but was unsuccessful because Stiles was a jealous and naturally un-trusting person (especially toward blonde girls who had had Derek Hale’s teeth _inside_ them). He told how Erica had been knocked out cold by the kanima and how Derek, being the big self-sacrificing idiot that he was, had tried to tell Stiles to run before running himself. Of course, that had been when Derek got himself sliced in the neck and Stiles had to drag him away. Though, Derek had been heavy and Stiles was never the most graceful even in the best of times, so the kanima quickly gained on them and, in a panic, Stiles had dropped his phone. However, when he’d went to retrieve it, Derek, paralyzed from the neck down, accidentally fell into the water like growling lump of wood.

“So, of course, I freak out and jump in after him and end up holding his heavy ass up for like ten hours while Jackson’s ugly ass stalked us!”

“It was barely two, Stiles,” Derek cut in, sounding a bit wounded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles waved him off and continued. He said that he and Derek had started to bicker, and Derek admitted that he didn’t trust Stiles, which had hurt a bit, but mostly just made Stiles determined to get them out alive.

“So, I, er, dropped him,” admitted Stiles, sheepishly.

“You, what?!” rang a chorus of the McCall pack, minus the McCall pack alpha himself, of course, who at the moment couldn’t have cared less.

“It was only for a few seconds! Jesus!”

After that story, Stiles figured most were getting the point, but still continued on and told them about how he’d started to form a plan to murder Jennifer before that stupid bimbo had even revealed herself to be the nasty gross whore that she clearly had been.

It definitely felt good to get that one off his chest.

Stiles told them about the hospital elevator and how he’d thought Derek had been as good as dead. He said that that had really been the moment that he’d realized, _oh fucking shit there’s no going back now, is there?_ and had punched Derek in the face. Both for looking dead and making Stiles fall for him so hard.

Stiles’ carefully skipped over the time he’d been possessed and, if anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything.

Stiles explained how he had just known something was wrong when nobody had heard from Derek. He told about their trip to mexico and how he’d made a promise to himself that he would bring Derek back or die trying.

Then Stiles was finally to the bit about Miguel 2.0 and smiled devilishly as he announced, “I really, _really_ wanted to take advantage of that . . . because ickle Derek had been just as fine and growl-y as big-guy Derek, but . . . ickle Derek seemed to dislike me just as much.” The smile slid from his face and he looked thoughtful instead. “The whole thing ended up being really bad for my big, gay crush. I mean _Spanish_! Really?! And shoving and walls and the _hair tugging_ . . . just, yeah. Bad for the big ol’ gay crush that was for sure.”

Then Stiles spent the next few minutes spewing loud profanities and useless threats toward Kate Argent’s name (rest in horrible, horrible rotten-ass, fiery, torturous peace, you evil demon of a woman!), and no one really knew what he said exactly but they all got the point.

“And after all that . . . hopeless pinning, I spent the last three weeks fretting over what would happen if I showed up like some kind of virgin sacrifice in front of Derek’s bed on my birthday . . . and then I--er--then I did show up like some kind of virgin sacrifice in front of his bed and now we’re here,” Stiles paused and beamed at them all in turn, “at my surprise party!”

Stiles took deep breath and continued to smile widely and, because this was Stiles, the entirety of his tale only took about six minutes and really hadn’t solved a thing . . . let alone answered any of Parrish’s questions.

However, as Parrish looked around, he realized everyone looked knowing now and Melissa was evening giving Scott a sympathetic-seeming scratch behind his ears.

“Er . . .” Parrish started, “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”


	9. Chapter 9

Scott could barely feel his mother’s touch. He was much too mad. He couldn’t believe Derek! Or Stiles! The both of them! Stiles was _his_!

Stiles was his, had always been his, and would always be his! However, now Stiles was trying to say that he was Derek’s, _had always been Derek’s!_

And Derek, for that matter, was Scott’s now too, and this was just unacceptable. They were his, not each others! His! But apparently not, considering that Derek hadn’t even blinked when Scott tried to flash his red eyes at the beta and make him obey.

Scott growled. In the back of his mind there was a very human part of him that felt ashamed of his actions, but it wasn’t nearly loud enough to block out the betrayal his wolf felt. He was so mad that he didn’t even remember what being happy felt like. Since Scott had been bitten, Stiles was the only person he’d had throughout it all. From day one, Stiles _was_ Scott’s one true packmate and had been his only pack for a long time after that.

_Minemineminemineminemine . . ._

\--

“Stiles,” said Isaac carefully and trailed off when Stiles sent a death glare his way.

Danny rolled his eyes and continued Isaac’s thought, “what Isaac meant to say was that that’s all good and stuff. I mean, great. You’ve been hot for Derek Hale all along, but that doesn’t exactly explain why you’re bleeding through your shirt, or say . . . why Derek and Scott just attacked each other.”

Danny had a feeling he knew why, he had a feeling everyone besides Parrish knew why, but no one really wanted to say anything lest they start up the brawling again.

Truth of it was, Scott was an idiot and Derek was freakishly possessive. Though, nobody could have blamed either of them for these faults. After all, Scott had always been a bit daft and had much too much to deal with since being bitten, and his daftness was just another part of his charm. Derek, well, after having nearly his whole family taken from him and being left alone too often, he earned the right to be a little too possessive.

“But doesn’t it?” Stiles asked and Scott thought, yes, of course it does, before he jumped up.

“Mine!!”

\--

Chris Argent was many things, but a good person wasn’t one of them. These days he felt as if he was more history than man. When he reflected back on his own life he saw nothing but absent revenge and bloodshed. The worst part was that he was stuck there, locked in the present, while his family rotted away in the past. Chris knew that he deserved nothing more.

Chris was trying to be a better person. Ever since Allison, well . . . ever since Allison, Chris had done all he could’ve to make himself into the dad she’d deserved to have. He’d pulled through his own pain and took care of Isaac, even though he’d never in a million years thought he would find himself in charge of a grief-stricken teenage werewolf. While in France, Chris had done his best to help Isaac regain control and uselessly spread his and Allison’s new code to any hunter that would listen, and now he was back in Beacon Hills, protecting and helping the only people he had left, and acting as a part of the pack Allison had chosen for them.

However, expecting Chris to jump between a Hale and an alpha that were fighting over a skinny, annoyingly big-mouthed twink was asking too much.

He was still a terrible man after all and it was much too amusing to be stopped.

This time, however, when Scott leaped up and Derek threw Stiles off to side there was no physical fighting, just growling and yelling and accusations.

Chris wasn’t sure which was funnier . . .

_Idiot wolves_ , he thought and found a seat so he could enjoy the show.

\--

Somehow their cozy little pack support group turned into a loud jumbled mess with only the coffee table in between. It all started when Scott had yelled, “mine!” and jumped up demanding Stiles back like he was a prime cut of meat.

And yeah, Stiles knew Scott was going to be mad, but he’d thought after he’d explained about his little, er, crush that Scott would’ve been happy for him and realized that he wasn’t losing Stiles at all, just gaining a happier less virginal Stiles.

Well, Scott either really liked the virginal part of Stiles in a way Stiles wasn’t sure he would ever be comfortable with, or Stiles had been majorly wrong in assuming all would be well once he explained.

Then, of course, Derek had only agreed that Stiles was a prime cut of meat by jumping up as well and yelling, “mine!” right back.

Fucking werewolves would be the death of him, Stiles swore it.

Now they’d moved on to the less primal and more philosophical side of the debate . . .

The beta stood at one end of the coffee table and leaned toward the alpha who stood at the other. Melissa stood near Scott to lessen the chance of more physical violence, and Stiles was by Derek thinking the same thing. The rest of the pack had, once again, filled in accordingly. Isaac took up the position of about-to-pee-myself wolf and paced the perimeter. Kira hid behind Lydia, who had merely stayed seated and watched in exasperation. Parrish now stood and looked twitchy. Chris had taken the deputy’s spot and made himself comfy, wondering out loud to Danny if it was possible to get some popcorn. Lastly, the Sheriff had sighed and retreated toward the kitchen when the fighting had first started up again.

“You haven’t ever scent marked Stiles or his house!” growled Derek. He could not believe Scott. Honestly, Scott was acting like the worst alpha there ever was! What kind of alpha tried to come between mates? Derek wondered. Certainly not any smart alphas, thought Derek. That was for sure.

“Well, I didn’t even know that was something we do, now did I!?” Scott shouted. “But I certainly would have held Stiles down and pissed all over him and his house if I knew you were doing it!”

Chris snorted beer out of his nose, Stiles seemed a bit too interested in the prospect, Isaac looked horrified, and Derek was now more red from embarrassment than anger.

“I didn’t--Jesus, Scott!” cried Derek, the fight left him all at once as he suddenly remembered that even though Scott was an alpha, he was still _bitten_ and probably really didn’t have a clue to what was going on, even with his own instincts. “We don’t--I didn’t _piss_ anywhere.”

“It’s okay!” said the Sheriff as he seemingly popped out of nowhere with a bowl of buttery popcorn in his hand and a warm smile on his face. Derek flinched as John clapped him on the back. “I can always invest in some heavy-duty puppy pads!”

Derek let out a high-pitched squeak and Chris fell off the chair with his laughter.

“What?” the Sheriff asked and no one could tell if he was serious or not. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve had to put up with since my life turned into the latest _Supernatural_ episode.”

“I haven’t pissed anywhere!” shouted Derek again, then he sighed. “Look . . . this is all my fault. A lot has happened today and I haven’t handled any of this very well. I just. I saw you coming at Stiles and I, Scott, and I felt threatened--”

“But I thought you wanted to be part of my pack?” Scott cut him off, angrily. “Why would you feel threatened by your own alpha?”

“That’s just it!” Derek said. “You aren’t acting like any alpha I’ve ever known! No alpha would attack their own beta in the territory of that beta’s mate. Every alpha I’ve known knew that trying to get a beta to break the bond with their mated through submission was pointless. I just--I just forgot how much you don’t know about what you’re feeling right now, I guess . . . and I’m sorry for that . . . well, unless you really were acting like that because you want to knot Stiles . . . in that case . . .”

Derek growled lowly and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Mate? Knot?” Scott asked, confusion overcoming his anger a bit.

“Look, Scott,” Stiles said loudly and snapped his fingers until the alpha focused on him. “It’s simple really . . . do you want to stick your penis inside me?” The question seemed to stun Scott into silence, but Stiles kept going because of science. “Do you have any uncontrollable urges to grow an extra body part on said penis? Or do you possibly feel like you have an insane amount of liquid pooling inside you somewhere? And, if so, could you please describe what it feels like in detail?”

“Stiles,” barked Derek.

“Right . . .” Stiles shook off his curiosity and realized that Scott looked completely horrified. Good, thought Stiles, and he smiled.

“Wh-what!” Scott hissed out. “I don’t--I don’t-- _what_!? I do not want to touch you with my--my--that! Let alone--oh god! What the hell, Stiles?!”

“Well, then quit acting like it, dude!” Stiles said and then he laughed at Scott’s expression.

“I wasn’t--”

“Dude, just, please,” Stiles said. “Calm down for a minute and think about it. You were totally acting like you wanted to bang me . . . in werewolf code at least.”

Scott whined. “I wasn’t--I don’t--oh god,” groaned Scott. “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it!”

“Mmmhm,” Stiles hummed, mock-unconvinced. “Suuuure, Scott. Sure.”

“I don’t! I swear!”

“Well then see!” Stiles burst, triumphant. “You both are being stupid. Derek, you don’t have to be threatened by Scott and Scott, you don’t have to be jealous over Derek. You two are both very important to me but for very different things!

“Now . . .” Stiles said, his happy demeanor completely gone. “If either of you ever talk about me like I’m a juicy piece of steak ever again, I’ll shove so many dog jokes down your throats that you’ll forget you aren’t two over-grown mutts. Understand?”

Both wolves nodded sheepishly, only just realizing that they had.

Stiles smiled warmly and looked to Lydia. “Present time?” he asked eagerly.

Lydia smiled and sent Stiles an approving nod, because that . . . that right there was a beautiful example of how to manipulate one’s truly air-headed alpha _while_ leashing one’s jealous brute of a boyfriend. The boy deserved some damn presents.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I do plan to keep this series going. So, please, stick around! I'll more than likely add the next bit sometime next week, but I'm not making any promises. 
> 
> I've mapped out a little of what to expect from the rest of the series. There's no summaries or anything, but pairings and titles are there. [Click here to view that.](http://i-amtheoutlaw.tumblr.com/post/100026128957/still-to-er-cum-from-the-on-a-tuesday-series)
> 
> Also, here's this one last time for good measure:
> 
> [if you plan on reading this whole series and actually care about canon chronology then you should really click here right now and read over this](http://i-amtheoutlaw.tumblr.com/post/100175173347/in-this-verse)


End file.
